


Snow Blind

by jupiter23



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Blanket Fic, F/M, Oral Sex, Vive la blanket scenario!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7097545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter23/pseuds/jupiter23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a modified version of this prompt from Goldwerewolf on Tumblr: In an attempt to forget her cheating boyfriend, Marianne takes a trip to Aspen where he father owns a condo. There she decides to take up skiing/snowboarding lessons from a tall, lanky instructor named Bog. You can also have a situation where there is a storm that kicks up and they have to take shelter in a shed on the mountain. If you want some sexual tension, deep talk kind of situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoldWerewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldWerewolf/gifts).



> ...So naturally, being me, I went the sexual tension route. Thanks go to Goldwerewolf for the prompt and credit for the title goes to Magicalstranger13, who was kind enough to beta read most of the first part of this for me. 
> 
> I wanted to post the whole thing as a one-shot, but it was getting long, so it's getting cut in half. The second part will be out as soon as I finish it (fingers crossed that it will be soon.)

Marianne dropped her backpack on the floor next to her two suitcases and shut the door behind her, leaning on it with a heavy sigh. Finally, she was alone. Okay, well not completely alone. Everyone she knew was a phone call away. But still. She was away from the constant hounding from friends and family members about why she suddenly up and ended her engagement to Roland last April, and only a month from the wedding no less.

It had kind of been a last minute, sort-of-impulsive decision to do so, but after enduring a Thanksgiving dinner with nearly everyone but her sister and her sister’s boyfriend doing everything just shy of conducting an interrogation for the details behind her broken engagement, Marianne had decided she had had enough. That very night, she had packed her bags and demanded the keys to their condo in Aspen, Colorado from their father, who she suspected had only turned them over to her when he started detecting her distress and desperation through her raging about needing to be left alone for a while. Dawn and Sunny had driven her to the airport right after that.

Now here she was, alone at last in the condo that was attached to the Dark Forest Resort a few miles outside of Aspen. No one was likely to come here looking for her. Especially Roland, who had been after her ever since she dumped him to take him back.

Then again, there was that little detail about people being able to call her. She glanced over to her purse that she had left sitting on a nearby counter and glared at it, as if daring her cellphone buried within it somewhere to ring. Fortunately it remained silent.

Marianne pushed herself off the door and gave one of her suitcases a half-hearted kick as she passed through the small kitchen and into the living room, collapsing face-down on the sofa. She hadn’t really slept that night. She had tried to nap on the plane, but the combination of the uncomfortable seat and everyone’s words continuously ringing in her head made that impossible. In fact, their words were making it impossible to think of much else. It had been the same thing since she’d ended the engagement: _he’s such a nice and handsome guy! Why break it off now? You two looked so good together! Whatever happened can’t have been that bad! Just give him another chance!_

She let out an irritated scream into the cushions and sat up. She came here to get away from all of that, damn it! Marianne forced down a deep breath. She was away from all of that, she had to remember that. It wasn’t like she couldn’t send all of her calls to voicemail or ignore the phone completely. Then she could hear Dawn’s voice whispering in her head, finally silencing the cacophony; _look at the bright side of things._

Okay then, what was the bright side? Besides being able to screen her calls, she was far away from anyone who knew her or knew of her situation, and she planned to spend the entire skiing season here if she could manage it, so whoever she met while she was here wouldn’t start questioning her life choices. 

Another bright side was the skiing. She hadn’t really done a lot of it since she had started her relationship with Roland a few years ago. While he had no problem going to the gym on a regular basis, it was more to keep his body in shape than because he liked any kind of physical exertion. He wouldn’t do anything that would make him break a sweat if he could help it. And the first time she had brought him to the mountains, just the two of them, she had attempted to get him to try it. Looking back on it, he had put on a show of giving it a shot only to satisfy her for a little while before he cajoled his way out of it. He wouldn’t do it again after that, and then had talked her out of skiing anymore. Then eventually he talked her out of wanting to go to the mountains altogether.

Well, that was over now. Now, her plans were to get back into practice and go skiing as much as she wanted. Marianne’s gaze drifted to the curtain-covered sliding glass doors that led to the deck overlooking the mountains and the rest of the resort. Her family had never used the resort’s trails in the past. They’d always used the trails on the other side of the condos that weren’t part of the resort. That was something else she would change. Her aim was to ski every one of the trails in that resort until she knew them all like the back of her hand. Hell, maybe she’d meet someone who knew of some more trails nearby.

Marianne stood and went to the doors, pushing aside the curtains. Here was yet another bright side: the view here was absolutely stunning. It was early afternoon, and there was a layer of fresh snow covering everything. She could see people on the nearby slopes skiing and snowboarding and otherwise playing in the snow. Marianne could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was her first real smile in what felt like ages. Starting tomorrow, she would be joining them. For now, she needed to eat and rest.

 

Bog sipped his coffee and cast another surreptitious glance across the room to the family sitting near the fireplace in the main lodge’s common room and had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud. They were a sight all too common to him after so many years spent running this resort. They were your run-of-the-mill suburban family on their first trip to the area, and who of course knew nothing about skiing, and yet, for some reason, suddenly wanted to learn. That was where Bog, also being one of several ski instructors here, had come in.

He had been the one to wind up with this particular family he was currently watching from the coffee bar. In typical fashion, they weren’t staying for the entire season, so he had stuck to teaching them the basics. In typical fashion, the wife and mother had been the only one even making an attempt to follow his instructions. Her husband and their two kids would pay attention for a while, but Bog could always tell when they were starting to lose interest. It was never long after that before they would stop listening to him and start screwing around. And then in typical fashion, after making sure they had a good enough grasp of the basics and firmly advising them all to stick to the beginner’s trails, the father had gotten the urge to show off and had tried one of the expert trails. And so, in typical fashion, he doomed himself to a broken leg and the opportunity to spend the rest of his vacation stuck sitting down with his leg propped up until they were scheduled to leave or until his wife got fed up and demanded that they head home. 

And that was exactly what had happened here. The family was seated in chairs near the fire sipping hot chocolate, the father with his leg in a cast propped up on an ottoman and extra pillows looking sheepish while his wife glared daggers at him and the kids fought over a Nintendo 3DS.

It wasn’t that Bog wanted to laugh at them because of the man’s accident. To be honest, he always found himself surprised if a week went by during the season where someone didn’t wind up with one of their limbs in either a wrap or a cast, or completely hospital-bound altogether, because they didn’t listen to either him or one of the other instructors and decided to be a hot shot instead. No, he wanted to laugh because he anticipated this family being one of the ones that would demand a full refund for their trip because of the husband’s accident (which they wouldn’t be getting; Bog had learned a long time ago on the advice of an attorney to make sure everyone that hired him or his other ski instructors sign a waiver specifically detailing that all novice skiers were heavily advised to stay on the beginner trails, otherwise the Dark Forest resort was not responsible for any injuries incurred by guests ignoring their advice, and Bog was nothing if not meticulous about his paperwork, especially paperwork that covered his ass in such situations) right before the wife packed everyone up and ended the trip early.

He wanted to laugh even harder because he had made a game out of guessing how long it would be before this happened, and what kind of a face the wife would make when he denied her a refund and she demanded to see a manager and he revealed to her that he happened to be the resort’s owner. And then how long it would take her to get out her threats to sue him before she stormed off back to her embarrassed family.

To a lesser extent, he also made a game out of guessing how much longer the husband and wife were going to stay married after something like this. With this particular couple, judging by the way the wife looked like she was about two seconds away from flipping her shit on everyone and by the way the husband looked like he was already bracing for it and how the children didn’t look all that bothered by their dad’s injury or all that concerned by their mom’s growing temper, Bog guessed they wouldn’t be staying married much longer. This was one of many families he had seen come through here where someone was making a last-ditch effort to improve things. Families like theirs that were much happier and healthier went to safer places like Disney World on a one-week-or-more-long family vacation, not to remote mountain resorts like his that only catered to winter sports aficionados during the wintertime when none of them had any idea how to participate in any of those sports.

There had been one bright spot to the whole endeavor, though. A woman with mahogany hair and dark make-up he had never seen before had started using the trails at his resort a few days ago. He had sworn off of women in any capacity other than work a long time ago, so he didn’t know why this one had caught his eye. But right about the time he had begun instructing the unfortunate family across the room, she had appeared on the trail he was using with her own equipment. Obviously she wasn’t in need of his services, and from what he could tell, she really had no business being on the beginner’s trail at all. She seemed far too skilled for it. He had caught a glimpse of the husband at one point and could have sworn the man was staring at her butt, which was another reason Bog was convinced the family was on the verge of falling apart.

Several things about the mystery woman became apparent to Bog in the next couple of days after that while he was trying to teach the family. One was that she was here alone. That in itself was unusual. Most people who traveled here came with either their friends or their families. It was a very rare sight to see anyone there alone. It didn’t seem to be troubling her, though, because something else he had noticed about her was the unbridled joy he had seen on her face when she started skiing down the slope. That was when he realized it should have been obvious to him why such a skilled skier was on a beginner’s trail used for teaching: it had been a long time for her, most likely not through any choice of her own making, since she had used her skis. He was hazarding a shot in the dark that it had been a while since she had even been to the mountains.

Oh, well. He might never find that out for certain. She had stopped coming to that trail a couple of days ago, and though he had caught glimpses of her heading towards the condominiums right down the road on foot, she hadn’t come into the main lodge and he hadn’t encountered her anywhere else. Not that he cared one way or the other, anyway. Nope, he didn’t care at all.

Bog mentally shook himself, took another sip of his coffee, and returned to subtly watching the family. The wife’s exploding temper was now imminent. He quickly turned his head and bit down on his knuckles to keep the laughter from escaping. Then he pulled out his cellphone and sent off a quick text message to his attorney, alerting her that she might be receiving a call from him within the next fifteen or so minutes.

As he was sending his text, someone sat down a stool over from him. Bog didn’t think much of it, not even when they ordered their coffee.

It wasn’t until he sent his text and looked up that he had cause to think of it at all.

When he did look up, it was to find the mystery woman from the slopes, looking at her own phone while waiting for her coffee. Her coat was draped over the back of the seat and her gloves and sunglasses were lying on the counter next to her.

He quickly returned his attention to his coffee and the storm brewing on the other side of the room. The wife had now turned her death-glare to the two children and Bog could see her mouth moving. Whatever she was saying to them had finally made them stop fighting, because they were now sitting quietly and neither one of them had the game.

“So how much longer do you think _they’ll_ be staying?”

“Huh?” Bog said in confusion, blinking stupidly. He glanced over to the speaker to find it was the mystery woman.

“Them,” she said, giving her head a brief incline in the family’s direction. “How much longer do you give them?”

“Ah,” Bog said. Then he snorted in amusement. “Another day or two at most.”

The woman giggled. “I get the feeling you’re being generous there.”

“Really? How long do _you_ think it’ll take?” Bog countered.

She smiled, and then glanced back over to the family. The wife had now turned her anger on to her husband and her voice was steadily starting to rise. “Hmmm…I give it less than twenty-four hours.”

Bog chuckled. “Ahh, but I happen to have it on good authority that she hasn’t demanded to see a manager yet.”

The woman arched an eyebrow, but before she could say anything, her coffee arrived. She quickly thanked the barista and turned back to Bog. “Well, I guess you’d know something like that,” she said as she stirred cream and sugar into her drink. “You are one of the ski instructors here, right?”

Bog took another sip of his coffee. “You might say that,” he said casually. Then he held out his hand. “Bog, by the way.”

She took his hand and shook it. He did his best to ignore how soft and warm her hand was. “Marianne.” She released his hand and took a long drink of her coffee.

“So let me guess,” she said once she was finished, glancing back over towards the family. And neither one of them had to be subtle at this point. The wife’s voice had risen so much that other people were starting to stare. “None of them knew how to ski, and once they gained the barest knowledge from you about how to do it, dad there decided to be a show-off and take on a slope he couldn’t handle.”

Bog wanted to laugh again. “You’re really perceptive,” he pointed out.

Marianne did laugh. “Well, I saw you trying to teach them the other day, and given that they weren’t really paying attention to you, it’s not really hard to guess that it would have only been a matter of time until one of them got hurt.”

Bog smiled at that. “Speaking of,” he said, “what were you doing on that slope, anyway? It looked to me like you’ve been skiing before.”

Marianne’s smile faded somewhat. “Let’s just say I let myself get out of practice and needed the warm-up first,” she said.

Bog nodded in understanding and decided not to ask anymore. It sounded like something she didn’t want to talk about, which he more than understood. “Well, you’re doing it right, at least.”

Marianne snorted a laugh at that. “Yeah, well, the idea of spending the rest of the winter like _that_ wasn’t very appealing,” she said, her eyes darting in the direction of Bog’s latest clients. The wife was now up to a nearly-inaudible shriek, and most of the room had now gone silent and was staring. Her husband and kids looked like they’d rather be anywhere else. “Although the upside to it is that there wouldn’t be a screaming harpy standing over me going on about how I ruined their vacation.”

At that, Bog’s amused snort caused him to start choking on the mouthful of coffee he had just taken a sip of. Marianne shifted over to the stool next to him to pound him on the back.

“Are you okay?” she asked, barely holding back another laugh.

“Yeah—“ he managed to choke out. When he could breathe again, he cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m fine. I just really wish—“ but he stopped in mid-sentence when he realized that the wife’s screaming was getting louder and closer. A quick glance showed him that she was now storming over to him. Bog rolled his shoulders and twisted his head to the side, readjusting the vertebrae in his neck with an audible _crack!_ , and schooled his facial expression into one of cool impassivity. It was show time.

“….You! Why are you over here drinking coffee at a time like this?” the wife nearly shrieked at Bog, who merely lounged back in his seat and nonchalantly finished the rest of his coffee before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean, ma’am,” he finally said, setting down his empty cup.

It took her a few seconds to answer. “I mean,” she finally said, “my husband has had an accident, my entire vacation is ruined, and you’re just sitting there!”

Bog cast a pointed glance over at her husband, who was rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. Then he looked back up at her. “And what _I_ mean is, what do you want _me_ to do about it?”

The wife sputtered in outrage. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marianne with her fingers over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“You—I—I want a refund for those lessons!” she finally shouted.

Bog stared calmly at her. “Sorry, but the cost of the lessons is non-refundable. I told you so when you signed the paperwork.”

She stared at him mutely, her face going an even deeper shade of red. He was starting to worry she might pass out or something. Then her eyes narrowed. “I want to see your manager then!”

A smile pulled at Bog’s lips and he swung around on his stool to face her fully, folding his arms over his chest. “That won’t be necessary, ma’am.”

“Oh, I think it’s very necessary, and if you don’t get someone out here right now, I’ll personally contact the owner of this place and tell them to fire you!”

“Now that’ll be interesting. Tell me, how do you expect me to fire myself?” Bog said, bemusement creeping into his voice.

That finally shocked the wife into silence. “You are not,” she finally said.

Almost on cue, the barista appeared with a carafe in one hand. “More coffee, Mr. King?” she asked brightly, as if someone wasn’t standing there yelling at him with the entire room watching. Bog would never be able to admit out loud that he wished he had planned it that way. It would have made the moment that much better.

“Yes, Chelsea, thank you,” he told her as he continued to watch the wife. He could see on her face the moment it hit her that he was telling the truth. At least she had done some research about his resort before coming here.

“By the way,” Chelsea went on, “Steph called down and told me to tell you there’s a message from Brutus. Something about one of the lifts needing to be shut down for repairs.”

“Tell them to go ahead and shut it down,” Bog told her, not taking his eyes off of the wife. Chelsea finished pouring Bog’s coffee and left to make her phone call. 

 “Now, you were saying, ma’am?” Bog prompted the wife, who was standing there slack-jawed and getting angrier, to continue.

 It took her a few more seconds, but she finally did. “I’m suing. As soon as I get home, I’m getting in touch with my attorney, and—“

“On what grounds?” Bog cut off her tirade, allowing his annoyance with her to leak into his tone for the first time. “I hope you aren’t talking about the fact that you were made aware before you even came to my resort that no one here would be held responsible for any injuries anyone in your party might have. Or are you perhaps talking about when you first signed up for skiing lessons and everyone in your family signed a paper that said you understood the instructor’s warnings to not go on trails you were admittedly not ready to use?”

The wife’s mouth opened, but then she closed it. Her eyes narrowed into slits. Bog took that as a cue to continue. “So go ahead and sue me if you want. My attorney’s name is Aura Plum, and her office is in Denver. Now, are you going to stand here and continue to disturb my other guests by making a scene, or should I call the police and have you escorted off the property?”

The wife was obviously still enraged, but wisely (and thankfully) decided that she had nothing else to say. She spun on her heel with a huff and stormed out of the lodge. Her husband and kids, now thoroughly humiliated, more slowly got up and began gathering their things to follow after her. Eventually, everyone else in the room turned back to what they had been doing before the drama had started.

“You might be right, after all,” Bog said to Marianne as he turned back to the counter. “Less than twenty-four hours before they leave.”

“And less than a year for the divorce to be finalized,” Marianne added.

Bog arched an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Did you see her husband? That was the look of a man who’s had more than enough and can’t get out fast enough. And I don’t know if you noticed out on the trail, but he kept giving me that I-want-to-get-into-your-pants-very-badly stare.”

Bog couldn’t help it anymore. “You’re extremely perceptive!” he said, laughing.

Marianne smiled, but again, it faded somewhat. “I wouldn’t call it perceptiveness. Just…experience. With guys like him.”

Bog had to admit his curiosity had now been stoked. Yet he still had no reason to ask about it. He didn’t know her well enough to do so. Besides, her expression alone told him the last thing she wanted was anyone pushing her for details about it.

“That’s why I’m done with the whole love-and-relationships thing,” she went on.

Bog grinned at that. “The whole thing is nothing but trouble,” he agreed.

Marianne looked mildly surprised for a split second, but then her grin brightened again. “Damn right! All you get is pain!”

Bog held his coffee cup up to her. “To remaining single,” he said.

“ _Happily_ single,” Marianne agreed, clinking her cup against his. The both of them drank to that.

Right then, a small group that all looked like they were in their early-to-mid-twenties came into the lodge. All of them stopped long enough to leave their skis and snowboards by the door before they began searching around the room for a place to sit. Bog had given them no more than the split-second glance that anyone would have given a new arrival into a room. Marianne, however, was giving their equipment a more thorough stare. When he noticed, he also noticed a play of emotions over her face: a touch of saddened resignation, followed by a defiant narrowing of the eyes, followed by a renewed determination that suggested that she had arrived at a decision.

“Hey, I don’t suppose any of your instructors here happen to teach snowboarding?” she asked, still eyeing the equipment.

Bog kept his expression neutral as he watched her. “That’s not something that’s exactly in high demand,” he said. “Most people who come here want to learn how to ski.”

Marianne’s gaze turned from the equipment back to him. Her face was equally neutral, although there was a touch of annoyance to it. “But you _do_ have someone, don’t you?”

“Only one,” Bog answered, still watching her. “Snowboarding isn’t that easy to learn. He only takes on students who seriously want to do it.”

“Great! Put me in touch with him!” Her face remained passive, but something about the set of her shoulders told Bog that she was restraining herself from clawing the counter.

He took another long sip of his coffee. “In that case, come to my office upstairs first thing in the morning. You can sign the paperwork and we’ll head out to the slopes right after that.”

Marianne beamed at him. Bog ignored the fact that her smile was making his insides do weird things.

“Awesome! I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” she said, finishing off her coffee. Then she stood, gathered her things, and left.

Bog huffed out a laugh as Marianne disappeared through the door. Something told him this would be rather interesting.

 

Two months later found Bog and Marianne at the summit of a trail that wasn’t part of the resort. She had met him the morning after they first met at his office and signed all of the paperwork (including the form Marianne was sure that woman and her family from the day before had signed reminding her that the Dark Forest Resort would not be held responsible if she found herself needing medical attention for any reason.) Right after that, he had taken her to rent a snowboard, and then onwards to a beginner’s trail that looked like it saw less foot traffic overall. He had explained to her that the reason they were using this one was because the ground here was less rocky and the snow built up somewhat differently on this one, which was important for how the board moved over it. Also, because balancing on a snowboard was a lot different than on skis, she was pretty much guaranteed to fall over at least several times before she figured out how to balance on it properly.

Marianne had had the vague impression he was looking out for her for some reason, and not just to reduce the number of bruises she would return to her condo with that evening. The snow on this trail was less trod-on, meaning it was less populated. She wondered if it hadn’t had something to do with her telling him the day before about the way that woman’s husband had been staring at her.  She had dismissed the feeling, though. He _had_ said it would be better for the board. And besides that, she certainly had wound up falling over a number of times that day.

_“You weren’t kidding about this being hard to learn,” she had said as Bog helped her back onto her feet for the fourth time. They hadn’t even gone down the slope yet and melted snow was already seeping through her clothing. She wasn’t about to give up, though._

_“It’s only hard to learn,” he had said, his lips slanted in that crooked smile that was doing strange things to her insides while he helped her adjust her stance on the board. “Once you learn, mastering it is no problem.” When she was able to remain upright on her own, Bog let go of her (and Marianne shoved away the sudden urge to put his hands back on her) and she could have sworn the flush to his cheeks had nothing to do with the cold._

_“Right, now remember that because your feet are pointing to the side, going forward is going to be somewhat disorienting at first,” he explained to her. “Ready to give it a try?”_

_“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”_

Marianne smiled to herself at the memory. She had miraculously managed to make it down that slope without falling over at all. Bog had been completely impressed. Of course, he had been even more impressed when she proved to be a fast learner. According to him, it had been some time since he had taught anyone who had picked it up so fast. She had chalked it up to her prior knowledge of skiing. He had argued that it was a factor that helped, but they were still two different sports requiring two different skill sets. They wound up having to agree to disagree on that point.

Eventually, she had learned everything Bog could teach her. Marianne imagined that in a normal universe, the two of them would have gone their separate ways after that. But a normal universe this was not. She had went out and bought her own snowboard as her lessons with Bog were nearing their end, and after that it seemed the two of them were looking for excuses to see each other until somehow they had silently agreed to just meet up on a particular slope and then have coffee afterwards a couple of times a week when Bog wasn’t tied up with running the resort.

But then two days ago, he had told her about the trails around his house a few miles away from the resort and asked her if she wanted to come over and use them. Even he had seemed surprised that he’d asked. Then it was her turn to surprise the both of them by accepting. When she had called Dawn that evening and told her about it, rather than the lecture she had expected about going out to some guy’s house when she didn’t even know him or the area that well, Dawn had gotten excited and started squealing over Bog finally asking Marianne on a date, and then the two of them spent half an hour arguing over whether or not it even was a date. Dawn had silenced Marianne by pointing out that if there wasn’t something going on between them, then why did he ask her to go and do something with him so suddenly? And why did she accept? By the way it sounded to Dawn, the two of them were attracted to each other. When Marianne had hung up the phone, she wanted to bang her head against a wall.

If there had been one thing Dawn had right about their conversation, it was that Marianne was attracted to Bog. No, she wasn’t afraid to admit that. She had been telling Dawn about Bog ever since she had signed up for her snowboarding lessons. As far as Marianne had been concerned, she had been happy to have finally made a friend who wasn’t constantly grilling her about what happened with Roland. Not that Bog knew anything about Roland, though. She had never had a reason to bring up the subject, and if he was curious about her past love life, he never asked.

And yet, Marianne couldn’t put her finger on what it was about Bog that had invaded her mind so deeply. That was something she wasn’t prepared to admit to anyone. Yes, she was attracted to him. The ever-increasing frequency of erotic dreams she had begun having about him, coupled with the fantasies she had found herself having not long after that if she wasn’t focused on something else, was proof enough of that.

But it wasn’t simply that she wanted to sleep with him. If it were that, she would have made a move long before now. No, there was something else going on. Because Dawn had been right, his invitation _had_ seemed to come out of nowhere, and she _had_ accepted it rather quickly.

Now, here they were on the side of a mountain somewhere above his house. Marianne had lost count of the number of times they had come up here now. It must have been a lot, though, judging by the fact that they were both starting to tire out just from the hike up (the only drawback to not using the trails at the resort—no ski lifts) and the fact that it was about mid- to late-afternoon. But even that was getting hard to tell for sure, because clouds were starting to gather. Bog had suggested this as the last run before they headed back to his house so he could get her back to her condo before the storm hit.

Once she had caught her breath, Marianne sat down to strap her feet to the board.

“It’s your turn to go first this time, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I think it’s yours, actually,” Bog answered, sitting down not far from her to strap into his own board.

“Didn’t you go first last time?”

“I’m pretty sure you did.”

Marianne finished with her straps and pushed herself to her feet. Then she glanced at the sky. “Compromise, then,” she said, and Bog looked up at her, askance. The edges of her lips quirked up in a smile. “Let’s race.”

Bog grinned, the glint of competitiveness now in his eyes. “Oh, you shouldn’t have said that.” He finished with the straps and stood.

“We’ll see about that,” Marianne said, pushing her snow goggles back on.   

“Yes, we will. After you get to the bottom of the slope,” Bog quipped, putting his own snow goggles back on.

“You want me to have a pot of coffee waiting for you?” Marianne shot back.

“Keep talking, Tough Girl,” Bog said, relaxing his shoulders and preparing to lean his weight forward.

“I will. Ready?”

“Waiting on you.”

Marianne rolled her shoulders. “Then let’s go!” With that, she shifted her weight forward, and she was off down the slope with Bog not far behind her. It wasn’t long before he overtook her.

Oh, hell no. Marianne leaned more of her weight forward, which gave her more speed. Next thing she knew, she was pulling up even with Bog. She didn’t bother hiding her gleeful smile, and as she overtook him and expertly executed a hard turn, her laughter was ringing out through the trees as she rocketed past them.

Bog didn’t seem to be having it, though. It seemed to Marianne that she had no sooner gotten out of sight of him than he was suddenly next to her and trying to speed past her again. Marianne leaned in again, and the two of them were even with one another, until…

… “Now that’s just not fair,” Marianne complained as she and Bog drew to a stop at the base of the slope at the same time. Bog had started laughing as he pulled his snow goggles off. He opened his mouth to say something when a loud, urgent alarm sounded from his pocket. He drew out his cellphone at the same time a similar alarm came from hers. Marianne pulled out her phone to see a warning about the impending snowstorm flash across the screen.

“I think we can argue the fairness of it on the way back to your condo,” Bog said. He clearly had received the same warning.

“Agreed,” Marianne said, tucking her phone back in her pocket, pulling off her snow goggles, and bending over to unstrap her snowboard. 

When she stepped off the board, though, she didn’t know if it was because of the tired muscles in her legs or if it was because of a patch of ice in the snow, but suddenly she fell flat on her back with a surprised shriek.

“Ugh! I thought I was done falling over,” she moaned, slumping back into the snow.

“You’re never really done falling over,” Bog said as he finished getting out of his own board and came over to help her up. “Why do you think they recommend all of the safety gear?”

“Point taken,” she said as Bog held out a hand to help her up. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. However, either his legs were equally tired, or there was more than a little ice under the snow, because no sooner was Marianne upright than she was falling again, this time forward into Bog. He tried to catch her, but their combined weight sent the both of them back to the ground, and this time she landed on top of him.

“Ow!! Damn, I am so sorry, Bog!” she managed as she disentangled herself from him.

“Not your fault,” he said, and she looked down at him at the same time he looked up at her. It didn’t occur to her until just then that she was straddling his hips and had one hand braced on his chest. But that seemed to pale in comparison to the fact that his already deep blue eyes had darkened as soon as they met hers and the flush that had taken over his sharp cheeks was most definitely _not_ from the cold. His eyes then darted down to her lips, and she didn’t think anymore as their faces began moving closer to one another—

\--until snowflakes started hitting them both in the face, at least.

They both jerked back, and Marianne scrambled off of Bog.

“I—I—Um, we—we should go inside,” Bog stammered out.

“Right,” Marianne said, managing to clamber to her feet and retrieving her snowboard. That was when she noticed the clouds. When had they gotten so dark?

“Let’s go,” Bog said, grabbing her hand. His snowboard was tucked under the other arm. The snow was beginning to fall in earnest and the wind was kicking up.

It wasn’t a long walk back to his house, but by the time they got there, the snow was falling harder and the wind was gusting. When they reached his cabin, they left their snowboards by the door as Bog pushed it open and pulled her through. It took the both of them to get the door shut.

“Damn,” Bog muttered as they both slumped against the door. Marianne silently agreed with his sentiment. It went without saying that it was already no longer safe to drive in.

Marianne pulled off her gloves and checked her phone again. Another alert about the storm had come through. “Double damn,” she said as she clicked on the alert and brought up the report. “They’re saying it’ll probably last until late tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” Bog said as he pulled off his gloves and coat and hung them on a set of peg hooks near the door.

“For what?” Marianne asked.

“I should have picked another day for this. Now you’re stuck here for the night.” He bent over and began unlacing his boots.

“Like you can predict the weather?” Marianne said as she unzipped her coat and shrugged out of it, and he paused in pulling off his boots to look up at her. “Besides, I can think of worse places to be stuck.” He opened his mouth, but then closed it again and silently took her coat from her before he finished pulling his boots off.

She had meant what she’d said, too. His house was actually a custom-built log cabin with one bedroom and one bathroom and an open floor plan. It was about a mile or so from the main road and completely surrounded by the forest. His nearest neighbor was about three miles away and they were about ten miles from the resort altogether. She thought it suited him perfectly.

As she bent over to work on taking her own boots off, he studied her for a moment. “I’ll—I’ll umm…” He stopped to clear his throat, and Marianne noticed his cheeks were starting to turn red. “I’ll—I’ll get you s-something else to put on.” Before she could ask why, he disappeared into his bedroom.

Curiously, she glanced down at herself. Large patches of her shirt and pants were soaked through from melted snow. How had she not noticed? Something like that could have been dangerous. Marianne silently berated herself for not paying attention as she finished taking off her boots. Right then, Bog reappeared with a folded-up sweater in one hand and offered it to her.

“You can change in the bedroom,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes for some reason. “I’ll run your clothes through the dryer if you want.”  

Marianne took the sweater. “Thank you,” she said, walking into the bedroom and closing the door behind her.

Just before she started to undress, she unfolded the cloud-soft pull-over sweater he had given her. Did he simply grab the first thing he came to, or had he really meant to give her a cashmere sweater? It was a deep gray and she could tell that the hem would come almost to her knees once she was in it. It also smelled like the deep woods and clean air. Then her mind wandered back to a little while ago, when they had fallen over in the snow. _He_ had smelled like the deep woods and clean air.

Marianne smiled to herself at the memory and started peeling off her wet clothing. As she did, her mind wandered in another direction. When was the last time anyone had offered to do something—anything-- to help make her more comfortable, as small as it was? It really shouldn’t have surprised her that she couldn’t think of anything. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. It was probably when Dawn and Sunny had given her that ride to the airport that night. But before that? Nothing.

Then again, she was probably _way_ over thinking this. In all the time she’d had to get to know Bog by now, he had proven himself to be a genuine sweetheart. He may not have thought so, but his actions and his words were two different things. And that’s most likely what this was: Bog being hospitable to his sudden house guest. Yeah, that had to be it. With that settled, Marianne pulled the sweater over her head, gathered her clothes, and left the room.

Marianne emerged from Bog’s bedroom, clothing in hand. He had turned on the TV mounted above the fireplace, which now had a fire burning in it. The local news was reporting on the storm. Bog himself was busy at the stove in the area sectioned off as his kitchen, and Marianne could smell chocolate on the air.

“The dryer is through there,” he said, motioning with his head towards a closed folding door Marianne hadn’t noticed until just then. “There are blankets on the sofa if you want one, and feel free to change the channel.” He never once looked up at her while he was speaking, but Marianne did notice the set of his shoulders seemed to have a tenseness to them that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. She decided not to say anything about it.

“Have they said anything new about the storm?” Marianne asked as she put her clothes in the dryer and started it.

“Only that it’s moving faster and bringing more snow than they thought,” he answered as she headed for his sofa.

“On that note, I say we hit the mountain again first thing in the morning,” she said. She reached the sofa to find a couple of micro-fleece blankets waiting. Marianne sat down and pulled one over her lap.

Right then, Bog came around the side of the sofa with a steaming mug in one hand. “What, you haven’t had enough of losing?” he teased, handing her the mug. Marianne noticed how he was subtly trying to avoid looking directly at her. Again, though, she decided not to say anything about it.

“Of watching _you_ lose, no, I haven’t,” she retorted. Bog chuckled as he headed into his bedroom to change. In the meantime, Marianne took a sip of the hot chocolate he had made and reached for the remote.

When Bog came back out wearing a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, Marianne had found one of the Avengers movies and flipped over to it.

“So I take it you’re Team Iron Man?” he commented, sitting down next to her, though he did leave some distance between them.

“Actually, I’m Team Everyone-Sit-Down-And-Shut-The-Hell-Up,” she said. “But this was all that was on.” Bog nodded in understanding and settled in.

About 15 minutes later, Marianne glanced over at Bog. He looked like he had finally relaxed somewhat, and his attention was more on the movie than it was on her. Marianne finished off her hot chocolate and set the cup down on an end table. He didn’t so much as glance at her when she moved.   

She didn’t really know what possessed her to do it, but it still happened. Marianne took one side of the blanket covering her legs and threw it over Bog’s lap.

He looked for a split second like he was going to take a flying leap across the room. He tensed up all over again and his eyes widened a fraction.

“You looked a bit chilly over there,” she said.

“Um—I—uh—th-th-thank you,” he sputtered out.

She had to work to restrain the urge to laugh. “No problem,” she said. A heavy red flush took over his cheeks, but he didn’t say anything else. She returned to watching the movie, but could feel the tension radiating from him.

Marianne had no idea what it was that kept riling him up. A few minutes went by, and Bog still looked like he wanted to get up and run away screaming. It was clear that he wasn’t watching the movie anymore.

“Hey, Bog, are you—“ But the question died on her lips when the power suddenly went out. The only source of light was coming from the fireplace.

Marianne glanced back over at Bog to see that he had now taken on the countenance of a trapped animal. The color had left his face and his hands were fisted in the blanket over his lap. Marianne was beginning to worry that he might pass out. She laid a hand over one of his fists, which made him start. He glanced at her quickly, but looked away just as quickly. Marianne studied him for a moment. What the hell was going on with him?

“Bog, are you okay? What’s—“ Then suddenly, Marianne got it. A knowing look crossed her face. He tried to turn his face away from her.

“Ah, I see what it is,” she said. He was desperately trying to look anywhere but at her and the color returned to his face full force.

“Are you afraid of the dark?”

His tense expression morphed into one of complete confusion. He turned and stared at her for a beat, his brow furrowed. “What?”

“Well, I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that! It’s a perfectly legitimate fear!”

“What!?” He only looked even more confused, and now it was combined with disbelief.

“I’m saying it’s totally fine if you’re afraid! I won’t tell anyone.”

“While I appreciate the gesture,” Bog said, “I am most certainly _not_ afraid of the dark.”

“Well, then, why in the _hell_ are you—“ Marianne stopped as Bog’s fierce blush returned and he looked away from her again, and that was when realization struck.

“ _Oh_! I—I’m sorry! I didn’t—“ she stuttered out, pulling the blanket up to her chest. She could feel the heat rising to her own face.

“No no no no no! I—it’s not— I’m—I—“ he replied.

 “I—I’ll just…go get my clothes…put them back on…” Marianne said weakly, standing up.

Bog glanced in her direction. “Th—they’re probably—I d-don’t th—think they were…done,” Bog said just as weakly. He immediately averted his gaze as soon as he finished speaking.

“Oh, right.” She sat back down. She was pretty sure her face was an impressive shade of scarlet by now. It was her turn to look away from him. Damn, but was this awkward! And there was no telling how long it would be before she would be able to leave! Then again…

“L-look,” Marianne forced herself to say, “I can try to head back to my condo first thing in the morning. I’m sure a taxi will come out here.”

Bog was suddenly off of the sofa and busying himself with the fire. “No, they won’t,” he answered, throwing another log on a bit harder than he probably should have. “They don’t generally travel this far from the town, and they won’t even consider coming out here until the roads have been plowed.” He then began stoking the fire rather violently with the poker.

“Oh,” Marianne said, biting her lip.

“Besides,” Bog continued, “I thought you wanted to go snowboarding again in the morning, anyway.”

“I do!” she said loudly. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I do,” she repeated at a normal volume. “It’s just…. I thought with….. That after what just happened….” Her voice trailed off. How did you put something like that into words?

To her surprise, Bog let out an aggravated breath and his shoulders slumped. He quit poking at the burning logs and pinched the bridge of his nose with the fingers of his free hand. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Marianne blinked. “For what? You haven’t done anything.”

“I have, actually,” he said. Before Marianne could argue any further, he answered in a murmur. “I’m a grown man. I should have a better handle on my thoughts than this.”

Marianne could only stare at him in shock. This was something new to her. No one had ever been apologetic about having filthy thoughts about her before. Roland certainly never had been. She gave a humorless laugh at that thought.

Bog turned around to look at her properly for the first time since they had come inside. “I don’t see what’s funny about this,” he said.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Marianne said. “It’s just that this is the first time anyone’s ever apologized to me for having… well, _those_ kinds of thoughts. My ex-fiancé certainly never would have.”

Bog arched an eyebrow. “You were engaged to be married?”

“Yeah, until last April. We were less than a month away from the wedding when I caught him cheating on me. I immediately called it off.”

Bog nodded in understanding. “And let me guess, he was the type that would have blamed something like this all on you?”

Marianne chuckled. “Exactly.”

Bog came to sit back on the sofa, and Marianne noticed that a lot of the tension seemed to have disappeared from his shoulders. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re better off without him. It was his loss.”

Marianne could feel grateful tears pricking her eyes. She stared hard at the blanket across her lap and blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall. “You’re the first person to say that about the whole thing. Then again, you’re also the first person I’ve told about what happened.”

“That painful, huh?” he said, and Marianne looked up at him. There was nothing but sympathy in his features. Sympathy and something else.

“You had your heart broken once too, didn’t you?” He suddenly averted his gaze again, this time from a sting of pain, and it was affirmation enough.

“I’m sorry! You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she said quickly.

“No! No, it’s fine, really,” he said. “I found out she only wanted me for what she could get from me. She never cared about me at all. And then the icing on the cake was when she ran off with another man. A much better looking one, at that.” His brow furrowed as he relived his pain.

“Well, to borrow a phrase spoken by a wise man,” Marianne said, “It was her loss and you’re better off without her.”

Bog’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Well, you are the first person I’ve shared that with.”

Marianne giggled. “At least we’re both in good company.”

Bog’s grin broadened at that, and he looked over at her. Marianne couldn’t help but notice that something about him seemed…lighter, somehow.

And then something passed between them, the same something that had passed before the snow storm started. The blue of his eyes darkened just like they had then, and they started to lean in close to one another….

…..and a crackling from one of the logs on the fire snapped them both out of it.

Marianne shook off the haze that had fallen over her mind again. What the hell was the matter with her? This was not the time for that!

She seemingly wasn’t the only one affected with self-berating thoughts, though. Color had flooded Bog’s cheeks once again and he had returned to not looking at her.

“We—we should… um…lie down and g-get some sleep,” Bog stuttered, standing up.

“Good idea! Good idea,” Marianne said. “I—I guess I’ll, um….take the couch then.”

Bog glanced back down in her direction, and his blush deepened. “A-actually,” he stammered, “i-it would be a—“ he cleared his throat, “—a better idea i-if—that is, if we b-both, you k-know….s-slept in here….um, n-next to the f-fire… I—I mean, with n-no electricity and all…”

“Oh! Um….okay,” Marianne managed, but then her jaw moved soundlessly after that. She could feel her own face warming up again and she began to vaguely wonder if it really were possible for a person to spontaneously combust.

“I—I’ll just…um,” Bog finished, motioning towards the bedroom.

“Yeah, okay,” Marianne said as Bog headed to get more blankets. Marianne wanted to beat her head against the mantelpiece. She settled for getting up and shoving furniture out of the way instead.


	2. Chapter 2

Bog didn’t know how long it had been. He and Marianne had silently arranged the blankets close to the fireplace, and when they laid down, he urged her to take the spot closer to the fire. They had also been a respectable distance from one another. Bog, at least, had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head touched his pillow.

But a call from nature had woken Bog up. Before he could move his end of the blankets off of himself, he had noticed that Marianne had shifted closer to him in her sleep, though her back was still to him. He might have started to silently panic had nature not gotten more insistent. Deciding that not wetting the bed was much more important than fighting with his ever-growing attraction to the sleeping woman next to him, Bog hastily got up to take care of himself.

As soon as he was done, he returned to their nest of blankets even faster than he had left it, stopping only long enough to throw another log onto the fire and stoke it back up. The temperature had seriously dropped in the rest of the cabin.

When he settled back into the warmth of the make-shift bed, Marianne stirred. Bog was getting ready to soothe her back into sleep when she turned over. Okay, so she was not awake. Good, at least he hadn’t woken her— _holy hell, what was she doing?!_

Bog’s eyes widened and his brain started to buzz when Marianne’s arms draped themselves over his chest. He pulled his arm out of the way in time for her to pull herself flush to his side. Her head was resting on his shoulder now. But then her leg came up over his hips, and her thigh was lying over—

!!!!!

Bog had to force himself to lie completely still and not openly freak out. It was fine, it was totally fine! She’d turn back over in a little while, and she would likely never know this had happened, and all he had to do was _never_ tell her about it _ever ever ever_ —

But then her leg shifted slightly. The movement resulted in the already fragile grip on his self-control slipping. Blood began to rush to his groin.

Bog could feel the rest of his body going rigid with panic and his heart began to pound. What in the hell was the matter with him?! He had to get himself back under control! As steadily and quietly as he was able to, he pulled in a breath through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth. It only helped slightly.

Okay, yes, he was attracted to her, he would admit to that. Since the day he had started giving her snowboarding lessons, there was something about her that he just couldn’t help but be drawn to. Every time he had had to touch her to correct her stance or help her up had left his hands tingling. Every time he had looked into those sparkling amber eyes he could feel himself getting lost. She was completely unlike anyone he had ever known before.

He supposed his attraction to her didn’t help anything. It certainly hadn’t when he had lent her one of his sweaters earlier that evening. And he was still debating over whether or not that had been a mistake. On the one hand, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to look her in the eye. On the other hand, he couldn’t very well leave her in damp clothing, either. Bog was pulled out of his thoughts when Marianne’s leg shifted again, and he grew even harder in response.

This was some form of medieval torture, he just knew it.

He was forced to turn his head away from her in another attempt to breathe. The scent of her hair wafting up to his nose was making things worse. He tried to think of _anything_ else to cool himself down. Unfortunately, only the thought of the slim fairy of a woman curled up in his side with nothing but a scant few layers of fabric between them crossed through his thoughts. That and the way her leg flexed against his erection in the most delicious way imaginable and how he was starting to wish she would wake up and throw that leg over his hip and _okay, he really, **really** needed to stop this now_. Why would she want him anyway?

Now there was a safe thought. What in his right mind would make him think she would want him in that way? He had embarrassed her once already tonight with this. He didn’t want to do it again.

As much as it depressed him, that line of thinking seemed to start working. The tension had started to recede from his muscles. But then…

“Mmmmm…..Bog? Wha’s wrong?”

And all the tension came flooding right back.

Damn it!

Damn it damn it damn it!!!

Bog squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw as Marianne lifted her head. She was probably staring at him again.

“Nothing,” he forced himself to say, “nothing at all! Everything’s fine!”

“Then why are you all— _holy shit I am so sorry!_ ”  Marianne realized where she was—and more importantly, what was going on—right at that moment and scrambled off of him as if he were on fire. Which he certainly felt like.

And yet he still had to bite back a whine at the loss of her. God help him, he had it bad.

“’s fine,” he exhaled, “it’s fine, you were asleep, you didn’t know…”

“No no, I should have—I could have been more—“

A few awkward seconds passed between them in silence. Bog wouldn’t allow himself to so much as breathe, and he thought Marianne might be doing the same thing. The only sounds were those of the storm still raging outside and the fire crackling next to them. That and the sound of blood rushing through his ears. Bog threw an arm over his eyes. He was sorely tempted to go sleep outside.

Finally Marianne let out an exasperated huff next to him and sat up. “Jesus, this is stupid. We’re both grownups, we should be able to just talk this out!”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. But still…

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bog growled.

“Oh, yes there is! You’re obviously attracted to me and I’m attracted to you—“ here Bog lifted his arm away from his face and his eyes snapped to hers in pure shock, “—so we should at least clear the air about it!”

He had barely heard the last part of her sentence. His mind was moving a million miles an hour.

 _She_ was attracted to _him_!? _She_ actually wanted _him_!? _Him!?_

“You’re not attracted to me,” Bog could hear himself murmuring. “Women aren’t attracted to me.”

Her cheeks were bright red, but she pressed on. “Well, _I_ am. So get over it.”

Bog gaped at her for a full four seconds before he burst out laughing. How could he argue with that logic?

“You’re right, this is so damn stupid,” he said. Then he sobered and sat up, running a hand through his hair. He could have sworn Marianne was watching his hand with an unreadable look in her eye. “Really though, I’m not that good looking and I know it. So why--?”

“Bog?” Marianne softly cut off his question.

“Yes?”

“Let me show you why.” With that, her fingertips brushed his jaw as she tilted his head up, and then her lips met his.

And her lips were the sweetest thing Bog had tasted in a _very_ long time. His eyes drifted shut as he deepened the kiss. A moan emanated from Marianne as their tongues pushed into one another’s mouths, and Bog’s arms wrapped around her. Marianne’s arms slid around his shoulders in response, one hand going to his hair, her fingers raking through the thick strands. It was Bog’s turn to moan at that.

Bog had lost track of time. This had to be a dream; there was no way this was actually happening to him. That the fantasy he had been trying to fight off all evening was actually coming true.

But it was. As he lowered her back down to the blankets, Marianne’s arms tightened around his shoulders and one of her legs came up to wrap around his waist. In response, one of his hands drifted down to grab her hip.

He still hadn’t believed that she truly wanted him, however, until her hips started rocking against his, her hot core grinding against his almost painfully tight erection through their clothing. He tore his mouth away from hers to cry out.

“Oh God, Marianne,” he moaned, struggling to draw air into his lungs.

“You okay?” Marianne said breathlessly, her fingers stroking his cheek.

He swallowed and nodded, his eyes sliding open to gaze into hers. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s just—you have no idea—“ He touched his forehead to hers.

“We can stop if you want,” she said. Bog’s hand left her hip and came up to stroke a lock of hair away from her face. A grateful smile pulled at his lips.

“I don’t want to,” he said. “But we probably should. I don’t have any condoms or anything.”

“You’re right. And I’m not on the pill, either.”

Although Bog would have been lying if he claimed he wasn’t disappointed, he still pressed a kiss to her forehead and moved off of her.

His intention from there had been to simply pull her in his arms after that and try to go back to sleep. But it seemed Marianne had a different idea. She was suddenly pushing at his shoulder, urging him to roll onto his back. He obliged her, although he was confused.

“Marianne, I though you said—“ But she cut him off by immediately straddling his hips.

“Shhh,” she said, laying a finger over his lips. “I can still show you that it’s possible to be attracted to you.” He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was going to be was lost when she sealed her mouth back over his. One of his hands drifted to her waist while the other coasted down to rest on her hip and then he was lost as she began to rock against him again, not even bothering to hold back his pleasure-filled moaning. He could feel her smiling against his lips when he did.

As Marianne’s mouth left his to lick and suck a hot path down his jaw and throat, her hands began to trail down his chest and then to his waist. Her tongue darted out to lap at the rapidly-pounding pulse-point in his throat, and her hands slid under the hem of his shirt to massage at the bare flesh of his stomach. His hands slid off of her body to fist in the blanket under him.

Then she pushed his shirt up and began to lick, nip, and kiss her way across his chest. Her hands continued to massage at his ribs and waist, and he was so lost to the feeling that he nearly came right then when the tips of her fingers brushed under the waistband of his pajama pants. She began to very slowly work them down, mouthing along the newly exposed flesh as she went. His moans turned into pleading whines and he began to rock his hips towards her mouth involuntarily. He had been wrong before. _This_ was some form of medieval torture.

“Patience…” Marianne chided, smiling against his hip. And he didn’t know whether it had been deliberate or an accident, but her arm brushed against his still-covered throbbing length as she moved it to gently hold down his other hip, and he threw back his head and cried out sharply. He really wasn’t going to last long at this rate. Then she returned to licking and nipping at his hip and he was lost again.

So lost that when she finally— _finally_ —lowered his pants and took him in her hand, he had to restrain himself a third time from releasing right then and there.

“Nnnnnngghhaaahhh—shit, MariaAAAHHHHH--!!!!!” came his pleading cry as she took him into her mouth. Funny, he thought he had lost his ability to form words when she started this. That was his last coherent thought as her mouth and tongue went to work on him.

And her mouth was pure magic. She had taken as much of him as she could while her hand stroked what she couldn’t. Her tongue lapped at him seemingly everywhere at once. No, he really wasn’t going to last long at all. He had wanted her for too long.

Right then, her tongue moved over him in just the right way, and it was too much. He released with a long, drawn out cry, and was convinced he had just died in the best way possible.

He was busy trying to remember what his name was, so he didn’t notice when Marianne pulled his pants back up, nor when she crawled back up to lie down next to him. He wasn’t even aware she had moved until she was pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Are you convinced now?” she asked. All he could do was nod as his eyes slid open to gaze at her. Bog couldn’t remember when the last time he had felt this completely sated was. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she snuggled down into his side. Bog watched her as she made herself comfortable. He’d have to pay her back in kind for this. She deserved nothing less.

“You know,” he said when he managed to find his voice again, “my mother always taught me to give back to people who gave to you…”

Marianne giggled. “Did she, now?”

“Oh, yeah. And if she heard that I had, ah, _received_ something so nice from such an amazing woman and didn’t make an effort to, well, _return the favor_ , she’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Marianne’s giggles had turned into full-blown laughter. “Well, we shouldn’t disappoint her, should we?” Then she pressed a kiss to Bog’s lips. “Tomorrow, though.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. _After_ I kick your ass on the slopes.”

“And what if I win?”

Marianne thought for a second. “Then you get to _‘receive something nice’_ again.”

Bog smiled. “You’re on, Tough Girl.”

Marianne smiled back and settled back down. The both of them fell asleep to the sounds of the snowstorm still howling outside and the fire still crackling in the fireplace.


End file.
